


Aftertaste

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-15
Updated: 2010-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 23:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, there's no spoon full of sugar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftertaste

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://igrockspock.livejournal.com/profile)[**igrockspock**](http://igrockspock.livejournal.com/) the [Alphabet Meme](http://medie.livejournal.com/1726396.html#cutid1), her prompt being H - Habanero - Jim Kirk.

Sam dares him. That's not why Jimmy does it, but that's his excuse. He grabs up the little red pepper and shoves it into his mouth whole. It's like eating fire, he can practically feel flames licking down his throat, scorching his breath, and he fights the urge to choke. His body surges, sputters, and his head swims, but Jimmy keeps on chewing.

Through it all, Sam watches wide-eyed. "You okay?" he asks, when Jimmy gulps it down in a rushed swallow. "Jimmy?"

"Fine," Jimmy says, hoarse. His throat is _screaming_ as he opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and does his best 'ahhh' so Sam can see. He doesn't wait, just turns around, and grabs his drink. "I win. You're buying."

He darts outside, letting the door swing shut behind him in a loud clatter, into the dry heat of an Iowan summer. Thunder rolls on the horizon and he looks toward the shipyards.

The frame of a starship stretches heavenward, bare bones exposed to the elements, and Jimmy nods. No storm today. Not here. He watches it roll closer, the clouds stretching across the sky, and sees the moment the weather-net identifies and targets the storm.

The clouds fan across the sky, growing lighter with every second, until they're nothing more than wisps.

He sighs and turns away. "Like they can't handle a little rain."

-

To the others, Kodos is a voice and a picture on a screen. Video went down a week into the 'crisis' after one of the power failures, but Jimmy's not stupid. He knows they killed the transmitters.

Flattening himself out, Jim breathes deep and stares at the black hole before him. By now the duct is a familiar routine, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Behind him, he hears Kevin start to fuss, squirming against his back. He looks over his shoulder, tucking the baby in tighter, "Hang on, okay? You can scream later, just not now."

Kevin lifts his head, brown curls black with the heat. He screws up his little face and Jim sighs. "Okay, okay." The bag doesn't have much left, a few bits and pieces from his last run, but it's enough. He finds the bottle of water and pours a little into Kevin's. It's a sickly warm, but it's all they've got.

It does the job. Jim crawls forward into the air duct to the sound of Kevin and his bottle.

-

Even for a Klingon, Kang is _huge_. He takes up the whole room without even so much as opening his mouth. His warriors fan the room, bat'leths in one hand, large tankards of Romulan ale in the other.

The familiar blue liquid sloshes over the edges as the Klingons celebrate and the Federation delegation cringes. Not even the diplomats can miss the green staining the Klingon weapons and the burn of the ale has nothing to do with the alcohol.

With a braying laugh, Kang moves through the party and claps a hand on Jim's back. It's a blow heavy enough to knock the breath out of him and he's still trying to get it back when Kang leans forward, all but shouting his name. "Captain Kirk!"

His breath is enough to make Jim's stomach lurch ominously, but he holds it down. "Commander Kang. Good fight was it?"

Kang grins, fierce. "We avenged our own, Kirk. There is no greater."

"Good, all done then?" Jim asks. "Nice quiet quadrant would be nice for a while." Behind Kang, he sees Spock raise an eyebrow. He can't quite pin that one down. It's somewhere between aggravation and 'would murdering the captain require an undue amount of paperwork in response?' or it could just be gas. The Klingon idea of vegetarian did look a little _alive_.

He waves Spock off as every Klingon around him bursts into laughter. "No, Captain, we aren't nearly done," Kang says, still laughing. "The blood of thousands cries to us for vengeance. Many still await entrance into Sto'Vo'Kor and we shall not deny them."

The warriors in the room roar with their approval. Jim swallows another mouthful of ale.

It's not nearly enough.

-

"What the devil is that?" Bones drops into the chair across from him. "A chili pepper?"

Jim nods. "Yeah."

"And, what? You're going to eat it like that?"

A shrug is Jim's idea of an answer. He thinks about a proper explanation. He can show Bones the reports cluttering up the PADD beside his plate. Casualty lists of ships caught in the Klingon-Romulan war, Romulan colonies under Klingon control, and the estimations of Romulan and civilian casualties in the time to come.

He doesn't. He'll let Bones enjoy his breakfast.

Someone should.


End file.
